


Another Beast Ascending Up From The Abyss

by Necroplantser



Series: Scion of the Sixth House [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: (and in your weird soul sickness dreams), Body Dysphoria, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Honorary Unofficial Blessing-of-Vehk For A Day, House Dagoth (Elder Scrolls), Religious Conflict, Trans Male Character, Vaguely Prophetic Dreams, a grand day out (in Maar Gan), and the dreams and nightmares thereof, borrowed headcanons, finally some backstory, is it still prophesying if it's about yourself, transition through means of a Living God, versus transition through the 'blessing' of the heart of a dead one, which basically translates to 'it's legal to show the cops your tits'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:54:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25721662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Necroplantser/pseuds/Necroplantser
Summary: Chasing after the blessing of the Heart of Lorkhan, Sur Drinith comes to an internal impasse. Straight from the past. Past impasse, hah.
Series: Scion of the Sixth House [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2121333
Kudos: 4





	Another Beast Ascending Up From The Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> "Gender/Body Dysphoria" being "Gender/Body Dysphoria As The Author, A Distressingly Dysphoric Trans Man, Knows It" so if you're really into tits and dudes and tits on dudes and hate to see them described in a negative light, by all means, head out.
> 
> Author is still going (tentatively because he keeps going for the wine) through alcohol withdrawals. Fortunately for his handful of loyal readers (who he would die for), the drama and nightmares make for good story inspiration. I've written this with a longing for gender-affirming surgery and sweet white Roscato under yellow lamplight on the porch with my vape sticking out of my mouth like a cigar. 
> 
> Headcanons about the Priests of Vivec and vimer come from shadows-of-almsivi on tumblr, used with express permission. We appreciate you and Morry in this house, Dan <3

Maar Gan was not spared from the constant ash storms surrounding the base of Red Mountain, but much like Ald'ruhn there was the occasional 'nice' day. The springtime sun beat down, the temperature seeming to rise from the direct heat of it. Sur sat outside the Temple in just his pants, buried up to the ankle in the remnants of last night's storm that hadn't been swept away just yet. Something wild and disobedient in him hated the something domestic and wanting that made him spend the night at Temple, awake until dawn, which now left him here.

A priest of Vivec had seen to his meditation, and seen the way that Sur refused to look at hir directly, which had opened room for questions on whether Sur knew part of the whole idea of Vivec, which Sur had insisted that yes, he did, and he knew it well enough. They'd sat together on patterned rugs near to naked, in silence for a time, until Sur had asked to put his shirt back on.

"Have you asked Lord Vivec to change you?" asked the priest, commanding Sur's eyes with hir own. "It might be the closure you seek."

Sur scoffed, and immediately felt terrible for it. "Time and again," he said. "When I see my family, maybe they'll help me find a way."

"Do you want to try again? Vivec is a busy god! The numbers that fall below hir radar are greater than you would think," the priest said, reclining from hir seated meditative position in clear disuse of it now, and inviting Sur to do the same. He followed, but crossed one thigh over the other. "I'm no stranger to helping folk like you commute with Lord Vivec for what they need, as our mysteries are often the same."

Sur yawned, though he felt no need to sleep by this point in the night. The dim white candlelight and sparse magelights of the Temple den highlighted the priest's face and what he could see of hir body as almost perfectly androgynous, and he thought, aloud:

"I'm young. But I'm afraid I might not be young enough for anyone, even a god, to give me what I need. My parents had me pray when I  _ was _ , but Vivec never answered…" He laughed, bitter. "Now it's too late to get the best out of it."

"Do you want to try again?" asked the priest, again, mourning in hir eyes as Sur raised his arms over his chest.

"Is it alright if I say no?"

A deathly pause hung in the air. For a moment Sur wished he’d said something different, and then the priest spoke again.

"Of course, and if you ever change your mind…" The priest touched the center of Sur's chest past his crossed arms, smiling gently even through his instinctive flinch. "You can come back here. And ask for Iveri."

And now at dawn, Sur looked out at the just-risen sun, tunic tied around his waist with the chalk- and ash-markings given to him by Iveri dotting and planing down his bare chest. A guard would look at him, straighten, and go about their business. And they didn't know his goals, or his dreams, or that for a second time in his life he felt like something whole. 

He knew, of course, that he could chase that sensation all the way to the ruins of Kogoruhn.

That night, Sur dreamed of the city, and of his chimer ancestor, and being Lensoth once again. The rhythmic sounds of a heart beating right outside both his ears, the dim red light of the city’s inner halls. Hands clasping his, a woman’s smiling face as she led Sur-Lensoth forward. When he looked down, his chest was bare and unbound, though the shape was far more familiar to Sur than it had been in the last dream -- where it had been flat before, it curved outward unpleasantly in a way that made Sur-Lensoth look back up at the woman. Something gave him the impending sense that it wouldn't be long for this shape that he had.

“Come on,” she said, tugging at his arm impatiently. “We’re going to be late!” Even more impatience seeped into her voice now. So Sur-Lensoth hurried to keep up with the woman as the pulse in his ears grew heavier, like footfalls coming nearer, the beat of a drum. Shadowy figures featured in his peripheral vision, appearing and disappearing before he could get a proper look at them, and as a red light appeared at the end of the hallway he felt something brush against his ankle. He kicked it away, able to ignore it for now, but as they came closer it came back, grabbing, clutching at his shins.

Forcing the woman to stop for a second, Sur-Lensoth whirled around, only to see a figure distorted mostly by dream, but its flesh was warped, bulbous, blinded by its own viscera, holding onto his legs for dear life. He screamed and kicked at it, but its grip only became tighter. 

And he woke up, sweat dripping down his face.

As the day passed by Sur put thought into his mission -- he’d killed his father for it. He couldn’t stop now. He needed to, but... As he took his stroll through Maar Gan he caught handfuls of people staring at him, up and down, mimicking the drawings on his torso with their fingers.  _ She? _ He heard it whispered.  _ He? No, stupid, that’s vimer, they’re blessed by Lord Vivec hirself, you know! Show some respect and use the right damn pronoun! _ And he took it in his stride, though Vivec had never heard him (and would ze ever?), it felt… proper. Showing up to a bookstore where the guard, again, took one look at him and bowed their head, sent a jolt up his spine. He straightened his back and held his arms loose by his side, mostly by force to prevent an equally strong force of habit, and browsed with his bare back to the guard.

Maybe after he got what he’d started off to Kogoruhn for… if he still needed to, he would see Iveri again.


End file.
